Four Brothers
by strawberryfinn
Summary: JONAS. When Mr. and Mrs. Lucas are killed in a car accident, Kevin immediately becomes the legal guardian of his younger brothers. But a leap from brother to father is huge and Kevin may not have what it takes as his family starts falling apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Four Brothers**

**Author's Note**: One of the darkest stories I've written. I'll update/write more depending on the feedback. I don't post if I have no motivation; I just keep my stories to myself :)

**Summary**: When Mr. and Mrs. Lucas are killed in a car accident, Kevin as the oldest immediately becomes the legal guardian of his younger brothers. But a leap from brother to father is huge and Kevin may not have what it takes as his family starts falling apart.

**Warnings**: Language, Mature Content, Sexual Content, Character Deaths, Self-Harm

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**1.  
He didn't want to remember.**

_Do not stand at my grave and weep,  
I am not there, I do not sleep.  
I am in a thousand winds that blow,  
I am the softly falling snow.  
I am the gentle showers of rain,  
I am the fields of ripening grain.  
I am in the morning hush,  
I am in the graceful rush  
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,  
I am the starshine of the night.  
I am in the flowers that bloom,  
I am in a quiet room.  
I am in the birds that sing,  
I am in each lovely thing.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry,  
I am not there. I do not die._

Kevin stared numbly at the framed piece of paper on the nightstand next to his parents' bed. "Fucking liars," he whispered. "Fucking liars. If you're not dead then where the fuck are you Mom and Dad?"

He took the picture frame and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. He heard it crack and fell unevenly to the floor, burying his face in his hands, trying to hide the choked sobs that coursed through his body.

He didn't want to remember the way the gravel sounded when it hit their coffins. He didn't want to remember the murmured "thank you's" he said to people who attended the service. He didn't want to remember how he answered Frankie when his little brother asked if Mommy and Daddy were going to Heaven. He didn't want to remember how Joe screamed when he heard the news and ran off to his thinking place in the treehouse outside despite the fact it was snowing. He didn't want to remember how he had found Nick huddled in his mother's closet, sobbing desperately into one of her shirts. He didn't want to remember.

"Fuck." He said it again when he opened his eyes and looked at the shards of glass that littered the floor. Not bothering to pick them up, he went downstairs into the kitchen.

Joe was sitting at the table, eating a cookie. Kevin didn't say anything; he knew the way Joe dealt with grief—he simply pretended nothing happened.

"Hey," Joe said, lifting his glass of milk in Kevin's direction. His voice was hoarse with agony. "You want one?"

"I… yeah, sure," Kevin said. Joe poured a glass of milk and slid it across the kitchen table to Kevin. He threw a cookie later. Kevin didn't say anything but he noticed Joe had eaten almost the entire bag of _Chips Ahoy_!

"Where's Nick?" Kevin said, biting into the chocolate-chip cookie.

Joe shrugged. "Sleeping."

Joe looked like he could use some sleep himself, Kevin thought. He had bags under his eyes and hadn't shaved for four days. But then he felt his stubble and knew he couldn't be criticize his brother.

"Still?" he said, continuing the conversation. Nick hadn't left his room for the last two days.

"He sleeps when he's trying to forget," Joe said calmly, taking another cookie out of the bag.

Kevin nodded. "And Frankie?"

"I let him go over to a friend's house to play," Joe answered. "It should be good for him."

Kevin thought about saying, _What about you?_ but didn't. "Good. Thanks, Joe."

Joe dipped his cookie into the milk and took another bite. He didn't wipe his mouth and the milk-mustache on his upper lip made Kevin want to cry all of the sudden.

"I really miss them, you know?" Joe said, his voice empty. "Like I really, really do. I used to wish they were dead a lot when they made me mad and now I'm just really, really empty-" his voice cracked and he bowed his head downwards, trying to stop from crying.

"Hey," Kevin said, reaching across the table to hug his brother. "It's going to be okay." He felt a lump in his throat and started crying too. "It's going to be okay."

"I hope so," Joe whispered.

The phone rang. Kevin looked worriedly at Joe, but Joe nodded, and Kevin answered it. "Hello? This is the Lucas Residence; Kevin speaking, how may I help you?" Even in their deaths, the Jonas parents still reflected in their sons; their upbringing was still evident.

"Hello Mr. Lucas. I know this is an inconvenient time to call and I'm extremely sorry about your loss but this is Betsy Hanson calling about guardianship of your brothers. We have to discuss who will be placed in charge of caring for your brothers and foster programs may be involved." The voice on the other end was calm and firm; Kevin felt his heart racing.

"I want to keep my brothers," he said, his voice breaking. "I want to keep my brothers," he repeated stupidly.

"Yes, Mr. Lucas and as of right now I think that is an option because you are over the age of eighteen and taking your brothers away from you at this time of grief is a very painful ordeal. But we do have to discuss what is best for your brothers, especially the youngest two, Nicholas and Franklin."

Kevin's grip on the phone tightened; Joe stared at him worriedly.

"I can keep them," Kevin said stubbornly.

"I know, Mr. Lucas. But we need to meet you at 377 Shire Avenue tomorrow—the legal firm in the area to discuss your parents' wills and the ownership of your siblings."

Kevin hated how she was talking about his brothers like they were dogs. But he just swallowed his anger and said, "Okay, I know the place. The black building?"

"Yes. Are you and your brothers available at 7:00 A.M. tomorrow?"

_If Nick can wake up,_ Kevin thought numbly. "Yes."

"Good. We'll see you tomorrow then."

"Okay."

"And once again I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Kevin replied without an ounce of sincerity. _I hate you._

He hung up the phone and looked at Joe. "It'll be okay," he promised again, but in his heart he wondered if it really would be.

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	2. Chapter 2

**2.  
He stares at who he's become**

Kevin's starched collar presses against his neck. He prevents himself from scratching though it's almost unbearable.

He stares at his brothers, hardly able to recognize them in their clean attire. They're all wearing suits and ties—even Frankie who has a clip-on tie.

Nick had cried that morning when he realized he didn't know how to fasten his tie. He'd stood blankly in front of the mirror and tried to loop the fabric in circles. It had folded into a mess around his collar.

He had stared at himself and suddenly his face had crumpled.

Kevin had come up behind him and tried to tie his tie properly. Nick had screamed at him. Screamed and said, "You're not my father."

Kevin had tried to hug him, wrap his arms around his little brother who's body was shaking with rage. He'd tried to hug him and Nick had punched him in the stomach. As hard as he could.

Kevin's breath caught in his throat and tears came to his eyes.

And then Nick had hugged him. Hugged him incredibly hard and told him that he was sorry, he was sorry, _he was sorry_.

Kevin had said it was okay. He'd gotten up, brushed himself off, and then tied Nick's tie.

They'd gotten into the car and had driven to Shire.

Now they were here sitting in a waiting room. It reminds Joe of the hospital room that they waited in to hear the condition of their parents. He doesn't want to remember the way that he screamed when he heard the word "fatal." He doesn't want to think about the way Nick's face fell when he heard "I'm sorry."

So Joe looks at the picture across the room and pretends that it's incredibly fascinating.

A woman comes out and says, "Ms. Hanson is ready to see the Misters Paul, Joseph, Nicholas, and Franklin Lucas."

Kevin stands up and his brothers follow him into the small office. There are two chairs in facing Ms. Hanson who's a petite blonde lady with abnormally big horse-like teeth. "Why don't you sit down?" says Ms. Hanson in a voice Frankie sits on Kevin's lap and Joe and Nick sit on the hand rests of the other chair.

Ms. Hanson pulls up a suitcase and puts it on the desk. She clicks the two locks and unbolts it, pulling out a few sheets of paper. She hands them to Kevin who accepts them numbly and looks them over.

The only lines that stand out to him are the first few:

_1. In the case that we are no longer there to support our sons, we would like to request that all of our money in our bank accounts and stock investments go straight to them—divided equally among the four boys. The proceeds of the oldest three: Paul Kevin II, Joseph Adam, and Nicholas Jerry—from their band "Jonas" should immediately be put in the boys' care as well. We request that Paul Kevin II take care of the monetary issues until the other boys are of age._

2. In the case that we have passed, we would like to request that the guardianship of the three youngest boys—Joseph Adam, Nicholas Jerry, and Franklin Nathaniel—be placed on the oldest brother—Paul Kevin if and only if there is no older guardian to take care of them. We really stand against splitting the boys up; we would like to keep them as unified as possible, unless of course, there is unanimous agreement that the minors would benefit in other conditions.

"You see?" Kevin says, his voice breaking as he takes the paper and shoves it as Betsy Hanson. He takes a pen from her desk and brackets number two. "You see? They want us to stay together. I am not letting you take my brothers away."

Next to him Frankie looks terrified. Joe squeezes his hand and holds him.

"You're going to take us away?" Nick is absolutely horrified. "Since when is this happening?"

Kevin regrets not telling Nick anything.

"I need to stay with my brother!" Nick's voice is bordering on hysterical and he stands up and points at Ms. Hanson. "We need to stay together; we're a _family_ –that's what our parents want—that's what _I_ want!"

"We understand that extremely well," Ms. Hanson says. She hasn't budged from her seat and looks remarkably calm. "But under these circumstances, we have to do what's best for you—that's what your parents wanted--"

"THEY WANTED US TO STAY WITH KEVIN!" Nick yelps and Joe grabs him and shoves a hand over Nick's mouth, throwing Kevin nervous looks.

"Nick, sit down," orders Kevin and Nick listens. "Ms. Hanson, you don't seem to understand that this is what our parents wanted-"

"Your parents wanted what was best for you. And I believe that your brothers—well Nicholas and Franklin at least, will benefit best from foster care-"

"I don't want my brothers in foster care. I can take care of them. Please," Kevin's voice is hollow. If he loses his brothers, he will lose everything. "Just give me a month or something. Let me test it out; if it works out I can keep them."

He fails to mention if it doesn't work out.

Ms. Hanson folds her hands. "Well Paul, there are many responsibilities for taking guardianship. You will have to stop this nonsense of band tours." Joe lets out an audible gasp. "There is no possible way that you can take your youngest brother on tour; your brothers will have to go to school—you to college or maybe look for a job. The money your parents have given you will only last you so long-"

"I can do it," Kevin cuts her off. "I can do it."

Ms. Hanson's eyes cut into his own. "I really hope you can Kevin. I really hope you can."

She pulls out a paper on a clipboard. "I had a copy of this one made just in case."

She hands it over to him. Kevin looks over the rules and signs a few things, noticing that a social worker will check up on them every week.

He sighs when it's all over, not realizing he's about to enter Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

**He starts to learn**

The ride home is silent. Not even Frankie says anything, though he protests lightly when Joe turns off the radio.

It sounds strange, but the radio hurts the most. The radio and the TV, in fact. The boys cannot go anywhere without hearing, "An here is a following report about the death of Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, parents of the teen-pop band Jonas," or "Who knows if Jonas will continue their band after the heartbreaking car accident that robbed them of both of their parents?"

The last time a report came on about them on the TV, Joe threw his shoe at the screen.

They don't watch TV anymore.

Kevin breathes, trying to keep his hands steady; they shake at the wheel, and he wishes that Joe could drive. But recently licensed Joe is in no condition to be driving; he looks over at his brother who's sitting in the front seat. Joe's eyes are focused straight ahead, and Kevin knows it's because he doesn't want to think. Joe looks pissed off, and Kevin thinks he's rightfully so. But Kevin doesn't want to be the bad guy—the brother who didn't let his brothers know what's going on.

He sighs. "Guys, let's get ice cream."

Joe gives him a dirty look, as if challenging Kevin. _You think ice cream is going to help us forget?_

Kevin channels his vision ahead and doesn't say anything. He drives into the parking lot of the nearest Dairy Queen and parks.

He goes inside, praying that his brothers will follow.

They do.

Kevin has always loved Dairy Queen. It's a comforting little store that sells reliably tasty ice cream and alternate lunch choices if ice cream isn't on your list.

Frankie bounces up and down next to him, his small hand wrapped around Kevin's. Kevin smiles down gently at him, and musses his curly hair.

He gets up to the pimply worker, and orders four vanilla chocolate dipped cones. Joe and Nick sulk in the back of the store.

Kevin asks for a job application.

Frankie looks at him, his eyes wide. "You're going to work at Dairy Queen?"

"Whatever it takes to feed you, buddy," Kevin says gently, handing Frankie a cone.

Frankie takes a bite out of his ice cream, and looks hopefully at Kevin. "You'll bring us free food then?"

"I hope so, buddy," Kevin says quietly, "I hope so." He ruffles Frankie's hair, and walks out the door, Nick and Joe reluctantly following him.

* * *

He knows how to play a guitar. He knows how to sing. He knows how to drive.

Then why the hell does he not know how to cook?

Joe glances hopefully at the curling noodles. Crap, did he leave them in for too long?

He gets a strainer and dumps the yellow noodles into it, wincing as some of them fold over cleanly in half, and others mash into a pile of what looks like pencil sharpener shavings.

Great.

Now there's something burning, and Joe runs frantically over to the spaghetti sauce which is bubbling furiously and turning black on the sides. What?

He thinks about asking Kevin for help, but then he remembers Kevin is sitting in the dining room, taking care of bills. He opts for the second best choice.

"NICK!"

Nick comes running down, his face flustered. "What?"

"Help me!" Joe exclaims helplessly, finally appreciating his mother's cooking. This is what she had to go through every night!

Nick grabs bowls and throws noodles in them, ladling on the sauce.

Joe hopes his brothers won't die of poison. A helpless sob catches in his throat, and he asks Frankie to set up the table.

* * *

Frankie sets up six places.

Nick retreats to his room to cry.


End file.
